But then the MUTO seemed to lose their scent or perhaps just its interest. Lifting its head, it reared up on its hind legs, blotting out the sky. Ford spied a large glowing nodule clinging to the underside of the creature’s abdomen, only yards above the two soldiers. The sight jogged his memory and he recalled some of the old photos Dr. Serizawa had showed him back on the Saratoga. The luminous nodule bore disturbing resemblance to the giant egg sacs that had been found in the Philippines years ago. The ones that MUTOs had hatched from.
Holy crap, he thought. They’re breeding.
The MUTO began to move off, heading west toward the coast, but then the tracks began to rattle, signaling the approach of an oncoming train. Ford realized with horror that the missile train was coming through the tunnel and had no idea that the MUTO was on the other side.
He prayed that the monster would hurry on its way, but no such luck. Attracted by the vibrating of the tracks, the MUTO wheeled about and trundled into the fog to meet the train. Obscured by the mist, it hunched over the tracks, eight monstrous limbs lying in wait. Its maw opened wide.
No! Ford thought. He leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the tunnel exit, shouting and waving his arms. “STOP THE TRAIN!”
But a savage howl drowned out his cries. Moments later, gunfire erupted in the fog and Ford saw muzzles flashes going off like crazy. The battle had been joined and, horribly, Ford had no doubt which side was fighting for their lives. If the best efforts of the U.S. military had been unable to halt the MUTO’s destructive rampage so far, what chance did the train’s pitiful defenders have?
Only Godzilla had proven a match for the MUTOs so far.
The besieged train came roaring out of the fog, even as its gargantuan attacker grabbed at it with its claws and fangs. Multiple limbs greedily snatched up the eighty-ton ICBMs as though they were sticks of candy. Armed soldiers, valiantly attempting to defend the missiles, were swept aside by the monster’s claws, their torn bodies plunging into the flaming waters far below. Automatic-weapon fire had no effect on the voracious creature, whose obsidian shell repelled everything the doomed troopers threw at it. The MUTO’s prismatic aura rippled the air around it.
Ford and Tre ran from the oncoming train and the monster attacking it. Desperate to get off the bridge, they sprinted for the western end of the span and safety. Their boots pounded on the tracks as they threw caution to the winds. Ford leapt over gaps in the slats, racing to reach the far end of the bridge in time. Tre tried to keep up with him, but was weighed down by the bulky radio unit on his back. Huffing and puffing, he fell badly behind. Glancing behind him, Ford saw the besieged train bearing down on them faster than they could run.
They weren’t going to make it.
“GET DOWN!” he shouted back at Tre.
But it was too late. A gigantic limb obliterated the track right where Tre was. The soldier disappeared along with a wide stretch of track, even as train came barreling across the broken bridge toward the gap… and Ford.
The entire bridge began to disintegrate beneath his feet. With no time to think, he leapt from the crumbling structure and plunged toward the churning river. The entire train, complete with its remaining cargo of ICBMs plummeted after him, cascading over the edge of the severed tracks. Ford fell through the fog and hit the cold water feet first, sinking beneath the foam. He kicked his way to the surface long enough to snatch a breath of air before the current dragged him under again and carried him away. Tons of train and missiles rained down behind him, sounding like an avalanche.
And yet, above the din, he could still hear the MUTO’s shrieking howl.
NINETEEN
The lights of San Francisco could be seen from the Saratoga, which continued to trail Godzilla at a safe distance. The monster’s immense dorsal fins sliced through the churning waves toward the coast, where a row of Navy LCS vessels had formed a blockade miles offshore. The Littoral Combat Ships, which were expressly designed for operations close to shore, were somewhat smaller, swifter and shallower than conventional frigates or destroyers, but still packed plenty of punch. Each vessel was armed with both 57mm guns and a full complement of surface-to-air missiles.
But would that be enough to deter Godzilla?
The warships held their fire as the fins approached. Searchlights lit up the night. In the Saratoga’s war room, Serizawa and the others watched tensely in anticipation, waiting for Godzilla to rise up and reveal himself. Nobody expected the giant reptile to simply turn around in the face of the blockade, not with the male MUTO reportedly flying toward the city. The minutes ticked down toward a likely confrontation that Serizawa still had serious reservations about. He understood that Admiral Stenz and the U.S. military could hardly be expected to let such a formidable threat come ashore unopposed, but Serizawa remained unconvinced that challenging Godzilla was a good idea, and not just because of the many valiant lives that might be thrown away in a futile attempt to turn back an unstoppable force of nature. With the MUTOs still abroad, it might well be that obstructing Godzilla, if that was even possible, was not in the world’s best interests.
We may be making a dreadful mistake, he thought.
But then, just when the conflict appeared inevitable, the great fins suddenly descended, sinking beneath the frothing waves until they vanished from view. The Saratoga pitched as turbulence upset the waters ahead. Serizawa held on to the corner of a computerized workstation to keep his balance. Graham gasped in relief. Stenz frowned, but also looked relieved to a degree. Serizawa guessed that the admiral also had profoundly mixed feelings about throwing the combat ships up against Godzilla.
Glowing green sonar screens tracked the leviathan until his mammoth form dissolved into a thousand tiny pixels, broken up by static, and eventually disappeared from the screens altogether. Serizawa assumed that Godzilla had simply chosen to dive under the blockade, as he’d done with the fleet two days ago. That he was still heading for San Francisco Bay went without saying.
Perhaps it is just as well, he thought, although his heart went out to the innocent men, women, and children in the city. They had not asked for their home to become a meeting-place for monsters, and Serizawa had no illusions that Godzilla cared anything for the insignificant human lives between him and his prey. We are all just collateral damage now.
Captain Hampton rushed up to Stenz, clutching a printout. “The warhead transport just went missing,” he reported urgently. “The next closest, we’d have to fly in, but with the MUTOs’ sphere of influence, there’s no way we get one here in time.”
Stenz’s face turned ashen. “Get Air Force recovery teams out there. Find a weapon we can use!”
The rising sun gradually roused Ford from unconsciousness. His eyelids fluttered, blinking against the early morning light. As he slowly woke from restless dreams of flames and falling, he became aware of a gentle lapping sound nearby. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the idyllic sight of a solitary doe drinking peacefully from the waters of a muddy river delta. The deer turned its head towards Ford and for a moment their eyes met in silent communion, man and nature sharing the world in peace.